We are in a kutchery. Firstborn, baby param and me. this is normally a recipe for fidget fidget fidget. It is a recipe for ‘how much longer till the last song’. The boys slouch and slump and yawn.
I fear the day the musician on the stage is going to stop the song in mid gamaka and hold the exit door till my brood leaves.
Today. Our favourite group is singing. It’s the girls from balabrundam headed by maami. Already my boys have agreed to attend the kutchery without major bribes.
We know at least 10 people in the audience, some mothers, some fathers and some grandmas with their faithful sticks to hold on to. How much more beautiful some songs sound as we age with them..
The boys pick the second row. They have chosen VIP seats. It doesn’t go with my offline mouse persona. But I comply. We listen. I don’t have to say shush hundreds of times. They are lost when the mridangam vidwan checks for shruti. Baby param wants to know what’s going on? In a voice that half the hall can hear. A aargh!
But one part of me knows that seetha mami understands. And the girls on the stage would tweak his ear, and leave it at that.
The boys want to know when their favourite song is coming on…
And finally when it does … The music feels like home.